


Truce

by my_thestral



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:48:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: In the wake of a grand event that will bring the two feuding families together, Narcissa Malfoy pays a visit to Molly Weasley – and soon, something is a-cooking…





	1. Mothers...

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I got the idea of a Weasley and a Malfoy becoming an item I was contemplating how would that go down with their families, who would make the first step and on what occasion. So this is my take on it. Many thanks to my patient and wonderful beta [TheMightyFlynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn) for her speedy check-up in spite of her dealings with a virus! 
> 
> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

“You?! Here? Well, what do you want?”

For anyone familiar with Molly Weasley, the suspicious, downright hostile expression on her round face – which was usually so kind and smiling – would have come as a proper shock. But, considering that her front door was currently occupied by none other than Narcissa Malfoy, in all her fur-coat glory, Molly reckoned she could be forgiven. Behaving well towards the Death Eater’s haughty wife was not very high on her list of priorities. Even after a quarter of a century, she could not forgive and forget that those people’s ruthless ambition had cost her the life of one of her children.

But Narcissa Malfoy, true to her reputation of being about as emotional as a brick of ice, appeared entirely unperturbed by Molly’s rudeness.

“I came here to discuss business with you,” the tall blond woman explained coolly, “as you are well aware that there is some to discuss. Perhaps we could continue this conversation inside? I’m afraid I have good reasons to expect it to take a turn for… _less than civil_ shortly.”

“This is my home!” Molly barked, not bothering being apologetic on any level. “I’ll behave in whatever way I want, and if you don’t like it, you can take your snotty face elsewhere!”

“Well, if you wish to have an argument on your doorstep…” Narcissa raised one of her perfectly-shaped eyebrows, as if she found the idea entirely distasteful, “…who am I to object? As you pointed out: this is _your_ home… and these are _your_ neighbours – and they appear to be a curious lot, oh my…. However – it is rather cold…”

Molly looked at the manipulative woman darkly, but then sighed almost imperceptibly, muttered something under her breath, and stepped aside to let her visitor pass. Percy’s wife Audrey was already pressing her long nose to the window pane, and if Molly continued her altercation with the Malfoy wench out in the open for much longer, surely Arthur would be alerted to rush home early for no good reason whatsoever. Audrey was a most incorrigible gossip who liked to exaggerate grossly enough to put Rita Skeeter to shame.

“It still doesn’t mean you’re welcome!” she hissed at the blonde vamp when she closed the door behind them. It wouldn’t do to let her opponent keep any unhealthy delusions about winning the first round.

“I didn’t come here expecting to be welcome,” Narcissa announced calmly. “But in the light of recent developments, I was wondering if we could perhaps discuss the relationship between our families… and see if there was a way to mend certain aspects of it. After all, the feud has been going on long enough…”

“And whose fault is that?!” Molly hollered, enraged and irrationally content at seeing her cool, composed visitor wince at last. “You people thought you were above everyone just because you had money and influence through your dark, fishy intrigues! So self-important and mighty you’d thought yourselves… for ages! Even before the war, that malignant creep you married treated my Arthur like dirt under his feet, trying to humiliate and undermine him on every occasion! And for what?! Just because my husband is a decent person who never believed in your pureblood supremacy folly!” Molly stomped her foot in rage.

“Lucius was perhaps a little bit… too zealous in expressing his disappointment over Arthur’s unfavourable position regarding the importance of blood status,” Narcissa conceded without so much as blinking, looking no less imperial. “I have often suggested that he should not permit his personal feelings to guide his actions across certain… _lines_. But, sadly, my husband is more temperamental than he cares to acknowledge. He might have… lost his way at some point.”

“Oh, _lost his way_ , did he?! Poor lost Lucius!” Molly hissed. “Was that before or after you lot attempted to murder my husband with that abomination of a snake? Or perhaps at the time when that vile creature you share your bed with set one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes upon my only daughter?! Or was it when you held my youngest son captive, carved the flesh of my daughter-in-law, or started a war that lost me my Freddie?!”

The piercing howl, every bit like that of a mortally wounded animal, echoed through the house, raw like the edges of an open wound.

“I never did any of those things,” Narcissa said quietly, and there was a slight tremor to her voice. “I never attempted to harm any of your children… or your husband.”

“Not a Death Eater, I know,” Molly said bitterly. “I was at the court room that day when you and your actions were on trial. You sure can count your lucky stars for our Harry! That man doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, testifying on your behalf like that. I guess he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing another family fall apart, the orphan he grew up to be. But you didn’t fool me. _You knew._ You knew all of their plans and schemes, and you warned no one, and you did nothing to stop them.”

“They were in my home,” Narcissa whispered in a tight voice. “In my home, where we used to be so safe and happy. Defiling and ruining everything. You don’t know what it was like… you have no idea.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have let it get that far, should you?!” Molly yelped, as if she wasn’t prepared to give up her chance to finally pour her anger and frustrations at one of _them_. “You could have stopped it. At least the second time you could have stopped that fool you married. You were the only one that could have done it. You only needed to talk to Dumbledore – or even to that bitter, miserable man, Snape – but you didn’t, did you?!” Molly barked heatedly, her accusing eyes focused on the regal, poised woman in front of her.

“No, you were far too ambitious, the lot of you. You must have thought that your moment had finally arrived when he’d returned. You wanted the whole world to recognise you as if you were indeed superior to everyone else; and he fooled you into thinking you would be his elite… Some elite! _Homicidal squad_ that’s what you were! You cared nothing for anyone else when you went and supported that murderous maniac – twice! You lot cooked up that war, with your crooked husband at the front lines of it! You cared nothing for the families you ruined and broke during your pureblood crusade! And you would have succeeded, too, if it wasn’t for our Harry! You would have not cared for _mending a relationship_ between our families had you not failed!”

“The war was over twenty-five years ago.” Narcissa tried to control her voice, but her complexion had turned ashen as if she had not expected so fierce an opposition.

“The war is _never_ over when you’d lost someone!” Molly screeched loud enough to put time itself to a halt. “Never! You power-hungry, sick bastards cost me the life of my son! Can you imagine that?! Can you even try?! Losing a child, Narcissa! Can you imagine paying for someone else’s pride with the life of _your_ precious son? Your beloved Draco?”

With brittle pain in her eyes that the years did nothing to dull, Molly looked straight at the tall, ghastly-pale woman before her; a quiet challenge to speak the truth from one mother to another. Narcissa said nothing, as if suddenly she’d lost the ability to speak at the mere idea. It took a long moment for her to shake her head to indicate that no, she didn’t even have the courage to envision the nightmare Molly had gone through.

“No,” she finally managed in a choked voice. “I cannot imagine such a horror. I cannot imagine my life without my son. It would have made my existence pointless. Whatever choices I had made in that abominable war, it was to prevent that from happening. I… I am truly, honestly _sorry_ for your loss.”

This time Narcissa did not hesitate to look straight at the fierce woman in front of her as if she knew she had nothing to hide: her regret was honest, her apology sincere. Mothers should not bury their children; this, at least, was one point they had both silently agreed upon. But once their eyes connected, Narcissa’s sorrow just flew out of her, as if she had to tell the one person that could understand, the one person that would listen.

“But you are mistaken if you believe we had not paid high enough a price. My husband might as well be in prison; he hardly leaves the house these days. And my Draco… he was terribly affected. He’s never been quite the same after living under the thumb of that monster for months. To this day, he still has nightmares – and it’s been nearly twenty-five years. And you lost me my sister…”

“That beast, you mean?! Well, let me tell you, I didn’t lose a single night of sleep over that! I did what I had to do,” Molly said quietly but her voice was hard and unapologetic. “She went after my daughter; she had to be stopped!”

“I was relieved!” Narcissa yelped her breathless confession. “God, I was relieved! And glad that it was you! I was afraid I was going to have to be me. And I didn’t know if I could face her. Her powers had grown immensely after she had re-joined her beloved Master, and I suspect he must have been sharing many of his dark secrets with his pet follower. And… she was my sister. We had always been taught family was sacred... and we were close. I didn’t know if I was going to have enough strength to destroy what I had been taught to love and admire,” Narcissa said quietly, the look in her crystal-blue eyes haunted.

“But she had turned so very mad and macabre in those days after she had given birth,” she sighed. “The sister I knew and loved as a child had all but disappeared. Whatever human was left in her after the first war, it had all been sucked out by the Azkaban. But as soon as she had given the Dark Lord a child, became the mother of his successor, she was certain she had become untouchable. She was riding so high on her monstrous cloud of madness, cruelty and superiority that she had become a threat to everyone! She had always liked my Draco before… but after she had given a child to her Master, even my son had become expendable, unimportant… and I couldn’t have that. I couldn’t risk her ruining my son because she no longer found him useful. It was just a matter of time before she lashed out at him and hurt him… or worse. And I was praying to every deity I could think of to give me the strength to stop her should it come so far. But then you came along,” Narcissa wheezed out a bitter, pained laugh.

“You, of all people, were to be my saviour. You did what I couldn’t bring myself to do, and you took her on without flinching. She saw how fierce and fearless you were, yet she’d thought so little of you, she never considered you a threat. It was her undoing how gravely she’d underestimated you. As have I. We all have. I suppose the Dark Lord didn’t learn his lesson about the magic of mother’s love for her child after all or he would have at least warned her. _You_ were never supposed to be a threat.”

“And neither were you,” Molly said surprisingly meekly, her anger all but deflated. “And yet Harry testified that you’d put your faith in him – and not the Dark Lord – and helped him escape Voldemort’s clutches by lying straight to that monster’s face. That must have taken immense courage.”

“I couldn’t be less brave than my son,” Narcissa whispered. “He’d lied that day in the Manor when the Snatchers brought them in, you know? He knew very well that we’d gotten Potter, disfigured or not – who else would have been travelling with Granger and your son? Everyone knew they never left his side if they could help it. It used to make Draco miserable with envy that he’d never had anyone so loyal himself. So yes, my son knew Potter better than he cared to admit. And he’d made his choice that day. I’d merely followed it.” Narcissa shrugged elegantly, but the look in her eyes betrayed she was still lost in the horrible memories of the past.

“Do you ever miss her, your sister?” Molly asked quietly after a short pause, glancing at Narcissa’s face nervously before diverting her eyes as if she wasn’t ready for the answer.

“Sometimes,” Narcissa said stiffly, but then her face melted almost imperceptibly. “But I miss the Bella I knew as a child.” She sighed tiredly. “Hardly anyone still remembers her as such, but she used to be so vibrant! Larger than life… so much fun… Bold, passionate, adventurous… so very beautiful. I’ve always admired her fierceness and her beauty; I was so very pale by comparison. I never thought I’d amount to anything much, you know? Not with Andy and Bella as sisters; both so strong-willed, both so attractive, and so much more able to impress. It’s my big sister Bella – the one that I knew back then – whom I miss… not the monster she had become. No one in the right mind could love and miss someone like that!”

Narcissa’s eyes grew as hard as blue diamonds at the echo of some distant memory, and she blurted out: “It was almost as if she wanted to be hated and feared. You can trust me when I say that I have no desire to bring back Bellatrix Lestrange whom you’d so completely – and impressively – annihilated. It was, in the end, the best for everyone. Do not think for a minute that I came here with any sort of retaliation in mind!” she looked at her hostess pointedly, and smiled a small, knowing smile.

“I will be the first one to admit that the Slytherins, perhaps more than others, always hear the darkness calling… and that sometimes we can’t help but answer. Yet this is not one of those times. Too much is at stake – and I had made my choice long ago, well-aware of the price and willing to pay.”

“What made you do it? What made you change sides in so pivotal a moment, when Voldemort appeared the strongest?” Molly asked quietly, her hostility replaced by genuine curiosity and something not unlike respect for this poised, unyielding woman.

“Oh… I suppose I could see no future, no happiness for my boy down the wretched path of fear and violence the Dark Lord was leading us,” Narcissa replied calmly. “I thought I might as well try to put my trust in the side of light for a change. It was not even a hard choice; it was the _only_ choice. When I felt Potter’s breath on my face, I knew for certain the Dark Lord was not meant to kill him. Not any of the other times he’d tried, not at that moment, not ever. I’m not going to lie to you: I’d switched sides in that moment for a very selfish reason – to save my son. Not because I’m a particularly good person, no – but because I love my son just as fiercely and uncompromisingly as you love your children. And,” Narcissa smiled a small, almost cheeky smile, “I’m proud to confess that much of my love has now extended to my grandson… which is why I’m here, of course.”

And as if by miracle, a similar, indulgent smile slowly crawled onto Molly’s face.

“Well, I can’t say that I was expecting you, but since you took the trouble to be here – I reckon I should let you say what you came here to say.”

“I have a suggestion… a request, really,” Narcissa said cautiously, as if trying very hard not to stir the waters of a fragile ceasefire she seemed to have formed with the temperamental Weasley matriarch.

“We can’t move the wedding to the Manor, if that’s what you have in mind,” Molly said flatly, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. “I know you’ve got plenty of room there and all the best facilities, but it is out of the question. Arthur hates it there and it just brings back too many bad memories for my family. We can’t. And that’s final. I’m sorry if you’d made your trip here in vain.”

“Oh, no… it’s not that,” Narcissa said matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t dare to ask you to change the location in the last moment – well, so to speak, two weeks is next to nothing for such a grand event. No, I merely meant to ask you if you were willing to cook.”

“Cook?!” Molly asked dumbly, her jaw nearly hitting the ground. “Me?! You want me to cook? You are willing to eat food… made by _me_?!”

“Oh, I know it was agreed between our grandchildren that due to the sheer scale of the event, our side of the family will take care of the catering – and it will definitely be too grand an affair for you to manage on your own, of course! After all, your grandson invited his entire Quidditch team – with their partners, and then there are relatives, and friends, and half a Ministry that the Minister Granger is bringing along. I haven’t meant you to do the _actual_ cooking. I would, of course, put all of our house-elves at your disposal to help; you merely need to instruct them on what to do, and how. I am obviously well-aware that it’s an enormous task to ask of you on such a marvellous, important day,” Narcissa said with an apologetic smile, “but I was hoping you were willing to at least oversee if not _‘run the show’_ , so to speak, back in the kitchens.”

At the sight of Molly’s flabbergasted face, Narcissa felt the need to offer some further explanation.

“You see, I wouldn’t have asked… normally,” she said with an uncharacteristic roll of her eyes, “but Scorpius keeps going on and on – and on! – about how you excel at cooking, how very delicious your food is, and how nothing our house-elves make ever comes near one of the _‘Molly Weasley masterpieces’_. It’s quite bothersome, really, but I thought… well, since this is also going to be his big day – he might as well get what he thinks is the very best, no?”

“That boy,” Molly finally found her voice as she was smiling from ear to ear. “That cheeky boy. I dare say he doesn’t eat my food, he eats Hugo’s love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people quite so in love, to be honest – and I thought Arthur and I were, as the kids say, pretty epic. But those two… honestly, they’re all over each other, like they’re trying to become one person! They’re so very adorable that I’m almost ready to forgive them that they’re not going to give me any great-grandchildren!”

 “Oh, yes… about that,” Narcissa said casually with a beautiful, charming smile. “As you are aware that Scorpius is the very last Malfoy, I’m afraid I must confess that I’ve done some initial research regarding the… possibility of reproduction. It hasn’t amounted to anything significant yet but I was told by one of my – shall we call them informants? – that my husband’s family had to be rather _resourceful_ when it came to offspring in the past.”

“You don’t say!” Molly gasped.

 “Well, yes,” Narcissa smiled angelically. “I have, however, found some useful hints I’d be most interested in discussing with you, since my grandson tells me you’re very well-versed in practical magic. Of course, it would all be down to the boys in the end – I wouldn’t dare do something behind their backs – but in case you’d be interested in pondering upon certain ideas…”

“Oh, do sit down and let me fix you some tea,” Molly said eagerly, the last traces of mistrust instantly forgotten. “You know I’m all ears.”

 


	2. ... and Would-Be Fathers

“Speaking of ears,” Hugo said swiftly and quickly removed the string of Extendable Ears from the ears of his blond partner in crime. They were sitting precisely one floor above their grandmothers, chatting animatedly. It was an emergency solution, really. As soon as they heard Molly’s thunderous voice resonate through the Burrow and Scorpius correctly – and much to his horror – identified the voice of his grandmother, Hugo knew that they – well, he – had to do _something_. He couldn’t have his fiancé die of anxiety just a couple of weeks before the wedding. A little eavesdropping – and a chance of timely intervention if need be – never did anyone any harm.

“Hey, give those back! I wanted to hear that!” Scorpius protested loudly but was instantly silenced by a long, bone-melting kiss that went on long enough to make him completely forget that there was anything other than Hugo and his delicious, dedicated mouth on the planet.

“No, you don’t… you no longer care,” Hugo whispered while painting a necklace of toe-curling kisses down his boyfriend’s neck, and Scorpius whimpered in quiet surrender.

As always, Hugo was right. Scorpius no longer cared. If he was being quite honest, the world could be on fire around them when they kissed, and Scorpius doubted he could save himself before he burned to death. As far as he was concerned, he could barely remember his own name when he felt Hugo’s warm hands travel across his body, and that beautiful, hungry mouth marked him for Hugo’s own the way he could only dream of.

Nothing in Scorpius’s lonely childhood could have prepared him for the firestorm that was Hugo Weasley. He never thought he could have something like that… have his heart beat madly in his throat, have the world spin in front of his eyes when they kissed so he had to close them and just give in… he could never imagine something like this was meant for him.

But then Hugo crashed into his life – and because this was Hugo, he _crashed_ quite literally. Avoiding an altercation with a vicious, poorly-aimed Bludger during a Quidditch match, he crashed straight into the audience, broom and all, and landed on top of Scorpius. He took Scorpius’s breath away, and not just literally. Scorpius had been a rather obsessed fan of Rose’s brother for far too long, if only in secret, but when he was lying all but crushed under the muscled body of the rising Quidditch star he’d spent so many long, embarrassing moments in the darkness thinking about, he couldn’t think of a single word to say. He might have already drowned in those bluest of blue eyes, staring at him from up close. He honestly thought he was dreaming when Hugo’s fingers touched his cheek gently, and he felt a tiny shudder flow through him as if somehow, he had been touched by pure magic.

And then Hugo smiled that sexy, cheeky Weasley smile, and Scorpius was done for. As far as he was concerned, he might as well have died and gone to Heaven and it would have been perfectly all right with him.

“Hey you,” Hugo had murmured softly. “I could get used to this…”

And just like that, Scorpius’s life was never the same again. Hugo came with his own brand of magic. He cared nothing for prejudice, feud between the families, their fathers’ distaste for each other, the unimportant rot such as morals, centuries-old standards and family expectations – or Scorpius’s painful shyness and awkwardness. Hugo’s love just swept across him like the unstoppable tide and took him on the ride of his life. To this day, Scorpius’s greatest fear was that one day he would wake up and realise it was all just a dream. It was _that_ good. _They_ were that good. Together. He could scarcely imagine he could have forever with Hugo. What grandmothers? What conversation? Hugo’s _“Make love to me, precious…”_ was all he needed to hear.

~

_Talk about a close call_ , Hugo thought. He really didn’t want Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, to reveal the secret that was going to be the one special wedding present he had ready for his husband-to-be. It took him months of digging in secret through the old tomes and scrolls of Malfoy Manor to find it while Scorpius slumbered away happily. But Hugo knew he needed to do this. He figured out that if anyone knew arcane, obscure magic that would help them have children of their own, it would be the Malfoys. He guessed that having a single boy in every generation didn’t come naturally; that somehow magic had to be involved, and he was determined to find it.

It took him long nights of crawling through the creepy old Manor at night, threatening the grudging portraits with hexes, and then yawning into the boring old texts while he could be wrapped around the beautiful blond man that somehow – fuck if he knew how – agreed to share his life with him. But Hugo had his mother’s persistence and his father’s stubbornness and _he just.wouldn’t.quit_.

And when he _had_ found it at last – barely legible and in a language, Hugo could not have comprehended had he not bothered with the old runes back at Hogwarts – it was everything he could hope for and then some. There it was: a possibility to have their very own child, and Hugo’s chance to resolve the terrible guilt Scorpius carried over being the last of his line. Hugo knew that the Malfoys always put family first, so when he asked Scorpius to be his boyfriend he didn’t really expect much. Well, truth be spoken, some rather glorious shagging might have or might not have been involved because a true Slytherin would never pass up a chance on some good leverage and Hugo was as Slytherin as they got. But, honestly, he was desperate to make love to Scorpius anyway and he just asked him because… well, fuck it, he had nothing to lose.

So, no, he wasn’t expecting much when he popped the question. And then to see those mesmerising silver eyes sink into his, and that pretty mouth breathe a single “Yes” – Hugo didn’t think he could ever forget that very moment. No one could forget a moment like that. Scorpius put him first. He chose him over the family, knowing full-well how very much displeased they would all be. Hugo had never felt so grateful, loved and humble in his life. From that day on, he knew he had a debt to pay. He would give Scorpius a chance to have him _and_ a family if it was the last thing he did. He didn’t dare go on his knee before him and ask for his hand before he had found the old script that gave them hope – but he had done it the very next morning.

This chance of a family would be Hugo’s present to the beautiful young man he couldn’t wait to call his own. _Hugo’s_ present – and no one else’s. He understood why Narcissa had once again gambled – possibly against the wishes of her horrid husband and with only a begrudging approval of her son – to show her support to the liaison between their families. The Malfoys were not going to get a better opportunity for their name to survive, and if they were to have a living, breathing child both wizarding families could love, it would certainly be enough to seal the fragile peace between them.

But Hugo cared nothing for that. He only wanted to make sure that Scorpius – his beautiful, tender blondie he all but worshiped – never regretted his choice to marry him. He’d seen himself and their future at the bottom of the silver eyes the first time he allowed himself to get lost in the sparkling ponds, and somehow, he always felt it included a child… or children. And he knew his man well enough to guess that having a family was going to make him over-the-moon with joy. So, by Merlin’s twisted knickers, he would give him one even if he had to conjure him – or her – out of thin air!

Content with his resolve, Hugo leaned down and sealed his unspoken promise with a kiss straight onto those pretty, soft lips of his husband-to-be who had stolen his heart with their first shy touch.

“They’ve gone awful quiet,” Scorpius whispered, always the anxious one. “You think they’re all right?”

“Of course they’re all right,” Hugo smiled and snogged him again, sloppily and enticingly, just the way he knew his boyfriend liked it. “They must be plotting our future behind our backs, hence the peace and quiet, my love. I reckon it is our merit that the Malfoys and the Weasleys have finally come to a truce. How about we make the most of it, precious?”

And a single kiss later – decadent and filled with steamy promises Hugo could very well deliver upon – Scorpius was once again starry-eyed and smiling from ear-to-ear, his anxiety entirely forgotten and his body bristling with sweet expectation.

“Very well, Mr. Husband-to-be,” he whispered straight into Hugo’s mouth. “I’ll have a piece of that truce you recommend… served with a kiss on top, please.”


End file.
